Lovely Calamities
by BerserkerHellHound
Summary: Dean and John leave Sam and go on a hunt for a werewolf, but little do they know that there's something else in the forest, something that is hunting Sam. Teen!Chester
1. Chapter 1

Lovely Calamities

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, sadly.

Chapter 1

The long, black Chevy Impala bounced gently as it rode over the rough dirt road, the growl of the engine roaring loudly in the dead silent forest. Sam sat in the back seat, multiple newspaper clippings spread across his lap and covering the rest of the bench seat next to him. He read through the same 2 articles for what seemed like the millionth time, skipping over any part he had deemed unworthy of being highlighted, the small frown that had decorated his face since he had set foot outside the motel became a complete grimace.

_Wild Animal Attacks_

_January 14__th__, 1998_

_ Park Rangers are reporting the discovery of the mutilated body found in Red River Gorge as due to an animal attack rather than foul play. The body, which has been identified as Mary Marshal, 28, was found at approximately 2:30PM on January 13__th__ […] Shocked family and friends all say that Mary was an experiences hiker and survival expert and that she knew how to defend herself in case of animal attacks […]_

_ While the coroner admits that while the body was missing only its heart, it was not unheard of for a wolf or coyote to leave most of their prey after eating its fill […] Park Rangers are urging hikers and campers to avoid the area of Red River Gorge until further investigation and (possible) capture of the feral animals._

_Another Violent Attack_

_July 14__th__, 1998_

_ After several months and the reassurances from Park Rangers that the wolf responsible for the death of Mary Marshall in early January had been euthanized, another body was found yesterday morning by a pair of hikers. The coroner, Dr. Alfred Robinson, has said that due to the level of decay already evident, the victim, identified as George Wallace, 26, was savagely attacked by what appears to be a wolf however, with only one organ missing […] Forensics indicates that George Wallace was probably attacked late night Thursday, 9__th__ or early morning Friday 10__th__._

Sam knew from his father that the mysterious "organ" that the newspaper has avoided announcing to the public had been the lungs. John had gone into the morgue under the pretence of Park Ranger named Joseph Rhine and discovered whatever attacked the man had ripped open the chest cavity and taken (or possibly eaten) the lungs. And so, despite the oddity of a werewolf with the taste for only certain organs Sam couldn't deny that the deaths occurring on full moons were pretty obvious.

But something told Sam that he was missing an important clue to this hunt, but he just couldn't figure out what it was.

The Impala rolled to a stop and Sam looked up from his reverie, shocked to find that they had arrived at the end of the dirt road, with only a small trail leading deeper into the forest.

John turned in his seat and stared seriously into his youngest son's eyes and Dean eased his way out of the car. John didn't speak until Dean had popped the trunk and busied himself with gathering the weapons for the hunt.

"Dad…" Sam began but was interrupted.

"No, Sam. You knew this was going to happen. I need you to stay with the car and wait for us. I left some food in the cooler," John said indicating the plastic cooler taking up the foot room beside Sam. "We should be back in the morning. If we aren't, call Bobby."

"K, but Dad, I really think this is more than just a werewolf…" he tried again before being interrupted.

"You're right Sam, I know you are. This is more than _just_ a werewolf; this is a werewolf with a weird appetite, probably some hick hiding away in a cabin. But that's all it is. It's not one of your conspiracy theories. So stay in the car, do your homework, memorize a couple exorcisms and we'll see you in the morning," John said, stepping out the car. He was hoping that Sam would just stay in the car, but instead he heard the boy get out and slam the door behind him.

John rolled his eyes but didn't speak.

"Dad, please just listen. How many werewolves have you ever heard of that have a taste for heart one month and then brain later on?" Sam demanded, waving the newspaper clippings in his hand like they were undeniable proof.

John shared a he's – your – brother – you – deal – with – him look with Dean before grabbing another gun.

Dean sighed loudly and turned to his brother, whom even at the age of fifteen was already starting to catch up to him height – wise. "Don't worry about it, Sam. This is going to be an easy case. Just write your essay or whatever you have and we'll be back before you know it. Besides, you have to protect baby, you know that's a really important job. I wish I got to stay with baby, but you know Dad, he doesn't trust me with her," Dean winked, handing the smaller boy a gun loaded with silver bullets.

Sam made his bitch – face, "Dean, I've _never_ fallen for that."

_A/N_

_Thanks to AlElizabeth for editing: you're a great sister!_

_The title is taken from the song composed by Tsuneo Imahori for the anime film Trigun: Badlands Rumble_

_Red River Gorge is in Kentucky. I chose it only because it was the first gorge I saw with trees in the Wikipedia list. _

_To Whom It May Concern, the coroner, Dr. Alfred Robinson, has no relation to Dr. Albert Robbins from CSI. The name just happened to be a happy coincidence and after I realized I decided I would keep it as it caused me brief amusement._

_While out of John's Aliases, Bert Aframain and Elroy McGillicutty are just fun names, Edgar Cayce was a psychic. Following this, I decided to use another name associated with the supernatural and used Joseph Banks Rhine who was a parapsychologist._

_This story is complete so I will be updating every couple days or whenever I remember between studying like a madman, listening to lectures or writing exams…_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

**Special thanks:**

**NetMyne01, thanks for reviewing! Also, I hope everyone is reading this as she pointed out for me at the end of the first chapter there was a random brain missing from a victim and a mysterious disappearing set of lungs from George… there is no brain. That was a mistake. I admit it! Thanks again, NetMyne01 and to yee 2 other people who reviewed!  
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As Sam watched the sun slowly start to sink closer to the tips of the trees, he urgently checked the locks on all the doors of the car. Sure, he didn't believe that it was a werewolf but he didn't want to take the chance… not that a locked door would stop a ferocious werewolf admitted to himself.

After shuffling around in the near dark for a moment, Sam was able to locate the latch on the cooler and pulled out a poorly wrapped tuna sandwich he had no doubt had been part of his father's dinner the night before.

Clicking on his flashlight, Sam went back to reading his newspaper clippings again, hoping the missing answer would magically appear.

Suddenly, it felt like there was something watching Sam.

Gently, he set down the newspaper clippings and shone the flashlight into the ever-darkening trees unable to see anything in the thick foliage.

Something giggled. Too close, Sam thought. That sounded like it came from upfront, slowly, he turned his head.

A pallid skinned woman sat in the driver's seat watching the youngest Winchester with amusement. She grinned widely at Sam, her missing teeth marring her already hideous grin. Her blind white eyes seemed to follow Sam even though it was impossible for her to actually see him.

"Hello, Sam," she whispered and giggled again.

~SPN~

John and Dean had been walking along the forest trail for over five hours, focusing on getting as far away from the Impala and Sam for the whole time. By the time it was 9 PM; John called a halt to their forward march and turned to his son.

"Alright Dean, we're going to split up now, but stay within 15 minutes of each other. Got that?"

Dean nodded and struck out through the dense vegetation surrounding him, keeping a firm grip on his pistol.

It was only an hour later of fighting through the trees and walking in half circles that Dean finally heard a low growl from his prey. Turning quickly, Dean found himself face – to – face with the muscular werewolf.

The werewolf snarled and slashed the air with its filthy claws.

Dean grinned and aimed his gun, but couldn't get a good shot at the heart. "Here boy," Dean whispered, knowing the werewolf hear could him.

A fierce roar, the werewolf lunged at Dean, claws raking the air as it sprang forwards.

Dean fired his gun – once, twice, three times – each bullet burying itself deeply into the monster's chest. With a pained grunt the werewolf hit the ground, twitched once, before it ceased movement and changed back into its human form.

Dean fired one more bullet into the werewolf, just in case, and started rooting through the pockets of his leather jacket for the small container of salt which he poured onto the body. He froze when he heard something walking through the trees towards him but relaxed when he recognized his father.

"Good job Dean," John praised and pulled out a lighter from his pocket, tossing it on the body after Dean had emptied a small bottle of lighter fluid.

The two watched the fire for a couple minutes, making sure that it didn't end up making a forest fire before heading back to the trail.

"Sammy'll be happy. I figured this hunt would take all night," Dean commented.

John grunted and held out a bottle of water to his son.

~SPN~

Dean's legs were killing him and he was exhausted. After another five hour hike back to the Impala it was almost 4 AM and he was about ready to pass out.

Through the trees, Dean could see the faint light of a flashlight and he rolled his eyes. His brother must have waited up for them; either that or he fell asleep with the light on. Rounding a curve in the trail, Dean froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

For a second, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think until everything seemed to catch up to him and he was running headlong to the Impala.

The back door on Sam's side was open, the flashlight sitting on the seat, the bright light shining out into the forest. Dean slid to a halt and looked inside quickly, praying despite already knowing his brother wasn't in the car.

"Dean!" John barked and turned his head to the windshield where a bullet hole punched through the glass. Frantic Dean scanned the ground in front of the car, hoping to find some indication of what Sam had fired at.

As Dean panicked, John tried to remain calmer and started searching what he considered "the drag zone," where the enemy would have had to drag his son to get away from the car.

The grass was crushed and broken in multiple directions, indicating to the well trained eye that Sam hadn't gone down without a fight. He had struggled against whatever had taken him. John followed the trail of disorder and scratched up dirt for a couple more feet until stopping dead like Dean had only a couple minutes before.

Bending down, John inspected the small splashes of blood that was already being absorbed by the dry dirt. He took a couple more steps, noting how the grass was becoming less and less chaotic as though his son had stopped struggling, as though he was losing consciousness.

Gently, John lifted the pistol his son must have dropped when he passed out, his heart breaking when he saw the specks of blood dried onto the handle.

_A/N:_

_ 1) Dear AlElizabeth: Thanks for being my editor. Isn't it nice to be acknowledged? :(_

_ 2) This is based on August 7th, 1998, however due to a conflicting scheduling it could also possibly be August 8th, 1998. The two calendars I'm using to map out the date of the full moon do not only disagree on the time of the full moon but also on the date *sigh*_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Special thanks: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you make my day! Also, thanks everyone who alerted this story, last I checked there are 18 of you guys! And last but certainly not least, to you 3 people who have favourite this, thank you. You all make me very happy! :)**

Sam was grateful when light and sound returned to him after waking from a long, empty black sleep. However, Sam was less welcoming to the pain that accompanied his consciousness. His head pounded from where the old woman had hit him over the head, his back felt shredded from being dragged and he could swear his arms were going to pull out of their sockets.

Sam scanned his surroundings, noting that the trees were slowly moving past him and he could feel the occasional bump from the path, his arms pulled behind his head and the wrists held tightly by a pair of very strong hands.

Sam looked behind him, twisting his neck slightly. Sam gasped and started to struggle again when he saw that the pair of strange hands pulling him along the forest floor belonged to the freaky blind lady from earlier.

The woman stopped walking and looked down at Sam in surprise, as though she had almost forgotten he was there. Then she broken out in a Cheshire grin and pulled him up to a standing position, wrapping her spindly arms around his waist. "Oh Sam, I'm so happy you're awake," she whispered lovingly, stroking his hand with her scab encrusted fingers.

Sam held his breath; the odor coming off the creature was a putrid mix of blood and decay. The creature crooned to Sam softly and hugged him tighter; he could feel the emaciated ribs of it poking into his own side.

The woman looked up into Sam's eyes, "Come with me Sam. I want to show you something," she told him gently. Without waiting for an answer, she starting spinning the two in circles like an odd dance and after a moment stumbled to a stop.

Removing one of her hands from around her captive, she pointed ahead of them, "Look."

Slowly, Sam followed her arm and gasped, stepping back into the safety of the forest. At the very tips of his sneakers was a sheer drop down with only the tips of trees to see for miles.

"It's just beautiful, darling?" The woman asked, holding Sam firmly.

Sam struggled against the woman's grasp, desperate to get away from the edge of the cliff and from her. All his struggling was for naught however, except her tightening her grip even more.

"Sam," the woman breathed making him pause in his struggle for safety. He looked down at her, confused with her sudden change.

With a mischievous grin, the creature stood on its toes and locked lips with Sam who immediately started ferociously struggling again. As he fought, he decided that if he managed to get away he was not going to tell Dean about this.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, the woman released Sam's lips and stepped back slightly for the gagging boy. "Well, this was a fun break, but we really ought to get moving again, love," she told the boy and started walking forwards, her arms still wrapped around his waist.

Sam locked his knees tight, trying to dig his heels into the soft dirt, his hands scrabbling at low hanging tree branches. After a minute of enduring his struggles, the woman let out a sigh and swept her foot under his, knocking back onto the ground. Wrapping her hands around Sam's wrists she started her walk through the forest

~SPN~

John and Dean raced along the forest trails, desperate to find Sam but also careful not to fall and injure themselves along the way. John kept his mind focused on the trail he was following. The monster hadn't bothered to cover its tracks well, an indication it didn't see him or Dean as a threat. He didn't want to take his mind off the trail, knowing that if he did he would think only about how his youngest son had tried to warn him about something about this case and he didn't listen.

Dean hurried along behind his father, his heart racing. It was his job to protect his brother but he wasn't even there when Sam needed him the most. He was furious with himself.

"Dean," John said suddenly and pointed to where the trail deviated from its fairly straight course and into the trees. "He started struggling again," John added as they followed the trail to the edge of a cliff with a straight drop. After a moment of following the trail away from the cliff and back into the trees John felt a swell of pride in Sam, the boy was fighting hard, he hadn't given up. "Atta boy, Sam," John whispered.

_A/N:_

_ 1) Thanks again to AlElizabeth for editing_

_ 2) As I was writing the kissing part I was cringing on the inside_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

Okie dokie (smile if that reminds you of the "Okie Dokie Man" _and_ if you know what episode) my special thanks: **Thank you everyone who reviewed, I get so excited when I see I have reviews, it's wonderful. Of course, thank you everyone who favourited and/or alerted. And even to everyone who just reads it (though I would prefer a review, it's alright). I appreciate it! Long days and pleasant nights :)**

The slow dragging finally stopped much to Sam's relief, his cut back was in agony and his pulled arms were burning. "Look dear, we're finally home," the old woman told Sam and helped the boy stand.

Sam strained against her as she pulled him into the dilapidated cabin that was overgrown with ivy and weeds. With a strength belying her apparent age the woman roughly pushed Sam into a rotten wooden chair and tied his hands to the rungs behind him.

Sam glared at her, "What do you want?" He demanded.

The woman smiled softly at Sam in what she must have believed to be reassuring but was actually rather creepy. "I just want your help Sam," she told him and walked to the opposite end of the cabin.

"Help you? I don't think so, not after you kidnapped me. My father and brother will come for me," Sam asserted.

"Come for you? No, I don't believe they will. My werewolf will have taken care of them by now," the woman replied, not even bothering to look at him.

"Your werewolf?" Sam asked, curious now.

The creature made a sound, "That's right, darling. I found him just last year, he's been doing such a good job of catching the products for my spells."

Sam was confused. What was this woman? Why would a werewolf be helping it? His thoughts were interrupted when the creature buckled over suddenly, coughing harshly. After the fit was over, the creature looked up at Sam, blood dribbling down its chin and smiled.

"Don't worry about this Sam. Now that your here I'm going to be much better," she assured him. She started walking towards Sam again, dragging behind her a cooler that was almost the identical twin of the one Sam had eaten his sandwich from the night before.

The creature ignored Sam as it built a fire in the decrepit fireplace and added various herbs and powders to the flames, which changed colour to a soft purple.

The creature waited for a moment before it plunged it hand into the fire and scooped up a pile of ash. She spat a large glob of bloody saliva into the ash and mixed them together before she approached Sam, her blind eyes never moving from his face. "Don't move now, dearest. I wouldn't want to ruin a symbol," she told Sam and started drawing on his cheeks with the bloody – saliva ash.

Sam held his breath against the putrid smell of the ash she was using to decorate him with. She opened his button-up shirt and starting drawing on his chest and stomach with the ash. When she was done, she stepped back and looked like she was inspecting her handy – work. With a nod, she walked back to the cooler and opened the lid, clapping her hands with unrestrained excitement.

"Sam, my love, you are going to give me such youth! Oh I feel like it's been a century since I last had such a handsome young man help me. With you, I am going to be able to enjoy at least forty years without sickness!" She told him and reached inside the cooler, pulling out a pair of lungs.

~SPN~

Dean was so anxious to get to his brother that he could barely control himself. He constantly looked at his father with desperation. John was not much better than his son, but he was at least able to hide it better.

And unlike Dean, he was prepared to sacrifice a little more time to check out any clues he found along the path that might be a clue to what they were going to be facing. Already he had found a dead stag with its throat ripped out and its eyes missing. Again, he decided this was another of the werewolf's weird appetite.

But when he found a lean - to and a pole with a short rope attached not twenty feet from the dead stag John was no longer certain that the werewolf alone was to blame. John cautiously approached the lean - to and studied the tracks. He could identify a large amount of what were surely a man's shoeless footprints. Next were the same man's footprints, only this time with long claw marks at the toes and John knew this was the werewolf they had killed earlier. There was a third set of prints however, a print he had come to know very well – a set of shoed prints, something that could have belonged to a child or a small old woman.

Whatever they belonged to, John knew it had taken Sam.

_A/N:_

_ 1) Thanks AlElizabeth for editing (bitch ;))_

_ 2) Sorry for the cliffy with Sam!_

_ 3) How exciting is this guys: Supernatural was ranked #8 for most stories submitted in a fandom! :D_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

Special Thanks: **Thank you everyone who reviewed, the number has been slowly but surely going up! To everyone who was interested in the history of the werewolf, here it is; and to everyone who wanted to know what the creepy old lad y wants with Sam you will be sorely disappointed. Sorry.** **Enjoy!**

When it first began and I would wake up in the morning more tired than when I went to bed, I brushed off my concern. My bed was uncomfortable, I missed my ex-girlfriend too much, the room was too hot, or the room was too cold.

Then when I started waking up with dirt under my chipped and cracked nails and stuff in my teeth I thought maybe I was sleepwalking and … I don't know … digging in the potted plants in my apartment or something.

I was distraught when I read in the newspaper that my ex-girlfriend, an avid camper, had been attacked and killed by a wolf one night. I couldn't sleep for days after that.

Eventually I found the will to move on and I could sleep once again, albeit with horrific nightmares of what I assumed was Krystal's death.

Then the night came when I woke up and found myself and my bed covered in blood, too much blood to be from just a cut. But I couldn't seem to find any cuts on me. Then the headlines read that there had been a murder, of a young, brunette, just like Krystal, a block away from my apartment.

That left me without any doubts. I don't know how I was killing these people or why, but I knew that it was me.

I had grown up in a family that hadn't seen any need of the police. If there was a problem, we took care of it ourselves. We could handle our own tumultuous lives without the help of a stranger. So I did the only thing someone who grew up like that could do.

I ran.

I dropped everything I owned. I left my apartment key. I left my job and security. I left my friends and my family.

I needed to get away. I needed to think about what was going on. What I had been doing at night without even knowing it?

I ran for so long, switching cars when they ran out of gas, hitchhiking, or catching a bus. I didn't care where I was going. I didn't even know if I was going anywhere. But then, anywhere would be better than back there.

Finally, I got to somewhere I thought I could live for a while, for my whole life if it came down to it. It was thick forest that went on for miles. I knew that I could go for years without running into another human and that was fine with me.

In hindsight I should have kept running.

It took only a day for the ugly old hag to find me in the massive forest. I woke up one morning with my foot in a bear trap and her leering down at me, her blind white eyes looking me over, and her putrid breath infecting my breathing space. She cooed to me softly and petted my head like I was a damn dog.

Once the old hag had released me from the bear trap and I had woken up after passing out from the pain, I found myself chained to a pole by the neck under a tiny lean – to.

The old hag, there really was no other name that suited her, would come out every afternoon with a bowl of raw, sometimes moldering meat of unknown origins. At first I would refuse to eat that disgusting pile of filth, I mean, I eat rare steak, but there's a huge difference between rare and raw.

When I didn't eat she would speak to me like we were best friends. "Kyle," somehow knowing my name, she would say, "You should eat." Or "Kyle, you need to keep up your strength."

Then came the day I finally gave into my hunger and ate the whole bowl of rotting meat, gagging as it went down. After that, she would start whispering to me like a lover, "Kyle, I have such big plans for us, dear," or "my darling," or "my love." My love. What a load. Somehow I doubted there had ever been anyone who had ever loved such an ugly old hag. Maybe that's why she lived in the middle of God – knows – where.

Once a month, I would wake up hungry, exhausted, but most of all, furious. It was like I had been denied something. Eventually, I accepted my situation. Maybe this was my punishment for killing Krystal and that poor innocent woman who just happened to look like Krystal.

Months passed. Every day the same thing would happen. I would wake up in my little lean – to, eat whatever the old hag brought me, daydream, sleep and repeat.

Eight months had passed since I had come to live for whatever that devious old hag had decided on.

One afternoon, however, everything was going to change. She was in quite the mood, both excited and frustrated. She mumbled to herself about Hunters and then would go on about someone named 'Sam.'

As the evening drew nearer, I decided that I was no longer going to live by her whims. That I would somehow get the hunters to shoot me, and then I could be free from the hag.

~SPN~

The next thing I knew, I was standing next to a young man, he couldn't have been older than twenty, holding a gun and staring down at a body. As I neared, I realized that it was my body. But, no, that's not possible…

I continued to stare in horror and slowly noticed that my body had long claws and sharp teeth. The boy sprinkled something white on my body and when another man came over, they tossed a match on my body.

As my soul dissipated into the air, I felt nothing but joy.

I was free from the old hag.

_A/N:_

_ 1) Thanks AlElizabeth for editing_

_ 2) I felt bad for Kyle in this_

_ 3) Next chapter: what's freaky old blind woman want with Sam?_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Although it saddens me, I do not own Supernatural

Special Thanks: **Thank you to everyone who has read up to the point and reviewed. A special HUGE thank you to LeighAnnWallace, my only reviewer for Chapter 5! And now, without further ado, onto the next chapter…**

Sam gasped desperately for air, blood dripping down his chin. His whole body was in agony. His lungs burned, desperate for the relief of air and there was a deep ache in his chest.

It had taken Sam all of about ten seconds to realize what had taken him.

"Oh Sam, my love," the creature whispered to Sam and lifted up a pair of eyes with the optic nerves still hanging from them.

"No," Sam gulped, fear tearing him apart.

For a brief instant, the creature looked almost sympathetic and cooed kindly, her voice stronger than they had been any other time she spoke. "I promise Sam, after all this is over with, I'll end it for you. You won't be worth much to me in a couple years anyways."

~_SPN_~

John could barely express his relief as a small, broken down cabin came into view along the path. John knew without a doubt that was where Sam was. He pulled his pistol out and motioned for Dean to do the same, not that it was really necessary.

Dean was so hyped on adrenaline that he had been carrying his gun for the last fifteen minutes, switching it between hands anxiously. He knew something was wrong, that Sam was probably hurt somehow, and he was frustrated, no – furious that his father was approaching with such caution.

When Sam was in danger, that's when all caution and fear of danger was called off. Sam was the only thing that should be on their minds, not self – preservation, but it was one of John's earliest lessons for Dean: you can't save anyone if you end up dead yourself.

The pair stopped right out front of the door and John nodded for Dean to go first, it wasn't like he would be able to stop him anyways.

Dean burst through the creaky old door and did a quick scan for any threats, his eyes instantly falling on his brother tied to a wooden chair, his eyes closed tightly, with a hideous old woman standing over him with a knife. When Dean rushed into the room with his gun raised, the monster bared its blackened teeth at him and hissed lowly.

"Get away from my brother, you freak!" Dean demanded with his gun aimed at the thing's head.

John was a second behind his son and also aimed his gun at the monster and moved closer to his youngest son without taking his eyes off it.

"Dad, what is this!" Dean yelled, his nerves burning with energy.

"It's a Hag!" Sam shouted his voice weak and pain filled.

"Silver bullet, Dean!" John announced, relieved that they still had the guns from the werewolf hunt, and the two fired off several rounds into the creatures' chest even as it lunged towards Sam with the knife.

The Hag shrieked loud and long before its skin melted off its bones and it crumbled to dust like Julian Glover in _Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade_.

Dean rushed to Sam and held him gently by the shoulders as John cut his hands free from the chair rungs. Instantly, Dean noticed the strings of bloody saliva hanging from Sam's mouth and wiped them away gently, afraid of hurting his brother.

"Sammy, what's the matter?" Dean demanded, panic nearly choking him.

Sam took a breath to answer but ended up doubled over, coughing and spitting up globs of blood onto the dirty wooden floor.

"Sammy! Sam, hey look at me," Dean said softly, holding the boy's face gently but Sam shook his head and looked away. "Sam, open your eyes now," Dean ordered.

Slowly, Sam turned to Dean and opened his eyes, the large hazel eyes Dean had been expecting now replaced with sightless white. Dean gasped and held his brother to his chest in a rare moment of public affection; he could feel Sam's warm tears through his shirt.

John watched his sons, his heart aching for Sam. He was furious at both the Hag and himself. He could understand a monster doing what was in its nature, though that knowledge didn't help him, what he couldn't bear was that he had taken so long to come to his son when he needed him the most.

"Come on, we should leave," John said, trying to hide his emotions from his sons. They needed him to be strong for them and he was not going to disappoint them again. "Get your brother and start to the car. I'll catch up in a couple minutes."

Dean didn't need to be told twice, or even once John figured, and scooped up his brother into his arms, holding him tight to his chest.

When the boys were gone, John stood silently staring at the pile of dust that had been the Hag. He grimaced at it and spat onto the dust before emptying a container of salt and another of lighter fluid before he tossed on a match.

_A/N_

_ 1) Thanks AlElizabeth for editing_

_ 2) For those of you who are confused, never fear! Everything will be explained!_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

Special Thanks: **Thanks to everyone who reviewed, also, I would like to apologize if I insulted anyone when I made my comment last chapter about having only one reviewer, it's just that, since it **_**was**_** only one reviewer I figured I would just the name. Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!**

Dean sat ramrod straight next to his brother in the back seat of the Impala, Sam's head resting in his lap, their hands clamped firmly together. They had been driving for almost sixteen hours already and Dean had only taken his eyes off Sam once and that was to run to a gas station washroom. He hadn't wanted to. As uncomfortable as it would have been he had been prepared to wait the whole trip but John had insisted and sat with Sam for the minute and a half he had been gone.

John knew he owed it to Sam to stay with him. Sam had tried to tell both John and Dean that there was something else in the gorge but neither of them listened and Sam had paid the price.

The Impala bounced as it hit a pothole and Sam gasped in his sleep, as though he was in pain and couldn't breathe. He had had difficulty breathing as Dean carried him back to the car, and Dean had nothing else to do for those long hours but to feel him shift and shudder and gasp for air and listen to him struggle when he couldn't get a breath.

Much to Dean's horror, instead of getting better with the Hag dead, Sam seemed only to get worse with each passing hour until it sounded like Sam was breathing through a straw and would cough up blood all too often.

When the family finally pulled into Singer Salvage and Sam was resting a little more comfortably in the guest bedroom, Dean was about to crack. He sat at the bedside, refusing sleep or food or a break from either Bobby or John.

After several minutes of unsuccessfully trying to reason with Dean, who was impossible while he was in Protective-Big-Brother mode, John made his way downstairs and into the living room that was filled with books. He sat down with a tired sigh on the chesterfield and gratefully accepted a beer proffered from Bobby.

"So, do I have to ask or are you going to tell me?" Bobby blurted out gruffly after a minute of silence.

John set down his beer and put his head in his hands. "Sam knew there was something wrong with the hunt but I didn't listen, I never listen… It was a Hag. I didn't even know what it was when I saw it. Sam did. I just knew how to kill it, but Sam… he knew what he was dealing with. He was so brave. He didn't scream or cry and he just kept fighting…"

Bobby was silent for a minute, processing all this information. Normally, John wasn't quite as forthcoming but he chalked that up to his exhaustion. "They're a type of shape shifter. That's why silver killed it."

"It wasn't doing any shape-shifting, Bobby. All it did was blind Sam and make it damn near impossible for him to breathe."

Bobby nodded his head. "Think back on the case, what were the werewolf victims missing?"

"There was a heart -"

Bobby nodded.

"And lungs."

"Right and I'm guessing somewhere in the articles someone was missing eyes."

"No. There was a dead stag."

"Right. Well there you go. That's what the Hag used then," Bobby said simply downing his beer and retrieving another.

"I… I don't understand," John admitted sheepishly. His head was so foggy from lack of sleep and he just couldn't connect the dots Bobby clearly thought were lined up neatly in a row.

Bobby sighed and muttered under his breath about 'Winchesters and their damned fabled smarts being a whole damn lie' and then turned to John. "They use the pieces of other victims as … sacrifice … and they are able to shape shift whatever piece they sacrificed. They like to use young people… for longevity's sake. That's why she took Sam, he's young and alone and vulnerable.

"It doesn't matter if you had listened to Sam and let him come with you on the hunt, it would have been him that the Hag went after anyways."

John nodded his understand and drank from his bottle deeply. "Why isn't Sam getting better?"

"That I'm not so sure about. From what I've read they work serious spells that aren't voided the moment the monster is killed, it sticks around for a while. Depending, he should be better in a week or it could be a month, hell it could be a year for all I know. But he will get better," Bobby told him. "Now since you idjits decided to barge in at God – knows – what – hour, I'm going back to sleep."

He left the eldest Winchester knowing the man would get no sleep that night.

As he walked past the room with Sam and Dean he stuck his head in quickly to check on the boys. Dean's silent vigil had finally changed to sleep and he sat slumped over onto the bed. When Bobby laid a blanket across Dean's back he woke and blinked sluggishly at the older man then turned back to Sam and promptly passing out again.

Bobby stood quietly in their room for a little while longer, just listening to their breathing. Dean's were soft and even and Sam's was harsh and painful. He ached for the boy. Bobby would give anything to switch positions with the boy.

Finally, he went to bed. The next day was going to be just as tough and stressful and he needed all the energy he could get.

_A/N_

_ 1) Thanks again to AlElizabeth_

_ 2) I hope that cleared everything up for everyone. There is lore on the Hag – and I'm sure it is in no way similar to what I wrote – but that's what artistic license is for…. :D_

_ 3) Only one more chapter everyone!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural

Special Thanks: **THANK YOU EVERYONE who has read, reviewed, alerted or favourite this story. For those of you who have their own stories then you know how great it feels whenever you see the hits on your story or the new reviews! I appreciate all the time you guys took to read this! **  
><em>~Long Days and Pleasant Nights<em>

It didn't take long for Dean to realize that the sicker Sam became was in direct correlation to the amount of hovering he performed. As the first week passed, Dean basically never left Sam's side, he ate next to Sam, slept next to Sam, hell, Sam had even managed to convince him to read to him. He only left to shower when he became desperate and even then he was gone only for a couple minutes and either Bobby or John had to stay with Sam during that time.

The two discovered early on that they were actually pretty good at "choo-choo-train" eating, but the name had been changed after Sam had guessed well and punched Dean in the nose the first time he referred to it as that. It was now breakfast, lunch and dinner, though Dean secretly thought of it as "airplane" eating.

It was exactly a week since the Hag had done her freaky spells and when Dean woke up to find Sam unresponsive he thought he was going to have a heart attack from the sheer stress of it all. To be honest, the last thing he remembered for shrieking for his father, for Bobby, for God, anybody who would answer and then he woke up in bed. Apparently he had passed out.

Bobby had tried to reassure Dean that Sam was just going to keep sleeping until the spells wore off and there was no need to panic. From then on, Sam was fed honey mixed with milk and crushed vitamins and Dean was no longer allowed to sleep in the chair beside him. Every couple hours Bobby or John would come upstairs with a mix of the honey-vitamin solution and they would feed the sleeping boy. When night came, they would force Dean to his bed and they would stay up with Sam, continually feeding him every couple hours.

Dean was distraught.

Without his job of taking care of Sam he didn't know what to do with himself.

Fortunately, Sam woke up again four days later and told the excited people standing around him that breathing didn't hurt quite so much. Dean could have wept with joy. But that would have been too chick-flicky.

Over the next couple days Sam steadily improved. He was no longer coughing up blood and he could even sit up in bed himself without help. Dean was sure his smile couldn't get any bigger until Sam told him he was starting to see blurred images and shadows.

Finally, two and a half weeks since they had arrived at Singer Salvage, Sam was able to get up and walk downstairs, his chest no longer burning and his vision crystal clear. Bobby had been so happy despite his grumpy appearance he made bacon and eggs, a rarity for the group.

The Winchesters stayed with Bobby for the rest of the week, taking the time to rest and de-stress.

Finally, John had had enough, however, and announced they would be moving on the next morning, after all, the monsters weren't going to kill themselves.

So, the next morning, the family packed their few supplies into the Impala and turned to say their goodbyes to Bobby.

"John."

"Bobby."

That was it for them.

Bobby turned to Dean and nodded, patting his shoulder, "You ever need anything and you give me a call."

Dean nodded and got into shot-gun.

Bobby turned to Sam and grappled the young boy into a quick hug before letting go, afraid anyone might have seen past his tough exterior. "Be good now Sam. And make sure you call or write me a letter or something," Bobby ordered.

Sam nodded serious. "I will, Bobby. Thank you." With that, he slid into the back seat and waved out the window to Bobby.

As they drove down the highway a few minutes later, John turned to look at Sam. "I'm sorry Sam." He told the boy. Sam was about to speak before John interrupted him, "I should have listened. I promise I will for now on, though."

Sam nodded. That would last for maybe the next 100 miles.

_A/N_

_AlElizabeth: thankee-sai for editing_

_I was watching Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade last night on the TV and I laughed when Julian Glover died and reminisced about the death of the Hag_

_ 3) Chuck was right. Endings are hard_


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